Ordinary
by Atiaran
Summary: Azula forces a meeting between Zuko and some people who knew Lee. PostCrossroads of Destiny fic.


**Standard disclaimer: **None of the characters, places, etc. in this story are mine, but are instead the property of Michael Dante DiMartino and Brian Konietzko. Lyrics to "Aldonza" are from "Man of La Mancha." No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story.

**Author's note:** I always wished we'd seen more of Zuko's and Iroh's life at the Third Ring tea shop, and this story was inspired by that. Here, Zuko experiences some tensions between his new rehabilitated status and his prior life as "Lee," causing him to examine some of the trade-offs therein. I'm not really happy with the way it turned out, but I suspect it's as good as it's going to get at this point. Much thanks to LadyKate, who helped as much as she could, and for being willing to beta in a fandom that's not her own. 

* * *

It had been a long, long day, and somehow, despite everything that had happened, Zuko could not shake the feeling that it had been a terrible one. As soon as Azula let him go, he retreated to the chambers that had been prepared for him. He laid down on the bed, pulled the blankets up over himself, and tried to sleep. He was exhausted, wrung out physically and emotionally, and he felt sick at heart, but still sleep eluded him. His overheated mind ran restlessly, thoughts chasing each other feverishly through his brain, faster and faster. He kept seeing the look on the face of that Water Tribe girl—he thought her name was Katara. He could still feel her fingers on his face. She had offered to heal him, had—he had almost….

And Iroh. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter what happened with Uncle Iroh—_It's like Azula said, he betrayed **me**, he…._ But somehow the thought rang hollow. _He followed me into exile, he saved my life, he stayed by me when no one else would—even after I left him, even after…._ He kept remembering how Iroh had told him, "I think of you as my own." Zuko was not blind, and he was not stupid. He had some inkling of the pain Lu Ten's loss had caused his uncle, and sensed in an unspoken way just how important he had become to his uncle in compensation. _I couldn't have hurt him more,_ he realized. _I couldn't have hurt him more—_

_Stop it._ He rolled over onto his side, staring at the wall. _No! Remember what Azula said: **He** betrayed **you.**_It was Iroh's own fault, he thought. Azula had said—Azula had—

_Are you **really** ignoring Uncle in favor of **Azula?**_

That thought brought him up short. As he stared, unseeing, at the wall, turning the thought over in his mind, the nagging thought also surfaced that Iroh was usually right about things. _He's usually been right in what he told you in the past, so what's different now?_

_It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. I'm going back to the Fire Nation. Father will restore my honor—_

Even though he hadn't captured the Avatar?

_No, it doesn't** matter.** Azula **said**,_ he told himself doggedly. _Azula said it would be all right. She said I didn't need him to, that…that I'd done it myself by helping her to capture Ba Sing Se._ He determinedly shoved aside all the questions of exactly how that helped, or what it would mean if Father still didn't choose to acknowledge him. _Azula said, _he told himself. _She said it would be all right. She'll…she'll help me, she— She said it would be all right. Stop it. **Stop!**_ Once he got back to the Fire Nation, once Father had seen his worth and restored his honor, he'd be able to help Iroh. He'd fix it all then. He wouldn't let Father hurt Uncle. _Everything will work out fine. It **will**. Stop worrying and think about something else._

He stopped, drawing a long breath, closing his eyes and running through one of the meditation and centering exercises Iroh had taught him. It was hard to focus his mind, his concentration; he stopped himself, drew another long breath, and did it again, then another time after that. After the third repetition, some of the tension finally began to drain out of him. _I'll think about it all later,_ he told himself. _Later. Too tired tonight. I can't do anything. I need to sleep. I need to…._

Slowly, gradually, the soft clouds came up and covered him, clouding his brain, muffling the sharp edges of his distress. He could feel his body relaxing, muscle by muscle, and drew a long, deep breath, sinking slowly down into sleep. His mind was floating aimlessly, wandering; his thoughts left the rich, silk-hung bedchamber and marble-tiled halls of the Earth King's Palace, and slowly drifted back to the old teahouse where he had spent most of his time in Ba Sing Se. _I wonder what's happening there…it's that open-stage night tonight, isn't it…or is it tomorrow…._ Tomorrow, he thought drowsily, it was tomorrow. Once a week, the owner of the teahouse had had a performance night, _sort of like music night on the ship used to be_, he remembered, where people could come and sing on stage if they wanted; there were a few groups who showed up regularly—a haiku troupe, a couple of singing groups, a dance troupe, a few others. _It'll be crowded,_ he mused dreamily; it was always crowded on performance nights…_he'll make everyone spend all that time setting up before, and then they'll have to clean up after too…and it'll be busy, so many people always come…_

In his mind's eye he could see the interior of the teahouse, set up for the performance—the tables pushed back to clear a space of floor, the chairs filled with people of all ages, and even more standing along the walls and sides, talking animatedly with each other as they waited for the show to start; the whole scene lit by the yellow flickering of candlelight that turned the evening sky outside the windows to black, the air filled with a warm communal bond of anticipation. He bet Chun Li would be there, somewhere along the back; she never missed a performance night and often would toss him an extra coin or two because she said she could see how hard he was working. _Pao Su too, and whoever she's dating this week;_ it seemed like she spent at least an evening every week crying on Iroh's shoulder about her latest breakup. _How he can stand to listen to her like that is beyond me…_ And Ching would probably be there too; he came almost every night and stayed until closing time. Once when Iroh had asked him, he'd said it was because he had nowhere else to go.

_I wonder if the Three Sisters will be there…_he thought sleepily. At first he had thought the whole thing was stupid and hated the work the manager made him put into setting up for it. Most of the performers were not professionals, but ordinary people who thought they were talented—usually, in Zuko's opinion, quite wrongly—and he resented having to do extra work to watch a bunch of commoners make fools of themselves. Iroh had told him once, "These people perform for love, nephew, not for coin and not by command. They perform because they love what they are doing and love to share it with others. It makes them happy, and it makes them happy to make others happy by doing this. They may lack some of the polish you've seen in the performers at the Fire Palace; but what they lack, they make up for in heart, and for that alone I had rather watch them." Zuko had looked at him stonily, then had turned away. _He's crazy. The whole thing is just ridiculous._

He'd maintained that opinion up until the first night he'd seen the Three Sisters perform. They weren't sisters, nor were they professional singers: Eilei was an older, motherly woman married to one of the professors at the University of Ba Sing Se, Shun Min was a tall and elegant student, and the diminutive, giggly Kim was a refugee who worked in a flower shop down the street. Iroh had told Zuko, afterward, that their technique was actually not that good, and in truth after he had listened to them for a while, he could tell that for himself. But none of it mattered. The first night he had seen them perform—when Kim had taken the stage with the other two backing her, to sing "Aldonza," her sheer, raw passion had raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

_You wouldn't think a little thing like her could sing like that…How did it go…?_ he tried to remember. Kim's voice came back to his drowsing mind, savage and crackling with anguished fury: _"I was spawned in a ditch/By a mother who left me there/Naked and cold and too hungry to cry/I never blamed her/I'm sure she left hoping/ That I'd have the good sense to die…"_ He had been shaking by the time she was done, having completely forgotten time and place. _ I wonder if she'll sing it again tomorrow…_he thought sleepily. He could see the crowd applauding for them in his mind's eye. _She doesn't always do it. I wouldn't mind hearing it again, if she does. _ If she didn't sing it, maybe he could request it, he thought sleepily; they did this thing at the end of every performance where they would ask the audience what they would like to hear. _Sure, I could ask for it,_ his dreaming mind concluded. _Why not?_ He'd never requested anything before, but there was always a first time. No reason why he shouldn't. Maybe he could ask for "Water Lady" too, though that was a popular one that usually got a lot of requests. For a moment his mind filled with the image of the crowded tea house, the galloping strains of Kim's voice ringing out over the packed room….whenever Kim sang you could hear a pin drop; the crowd was always raptly silent. The strength in her voice harnessed into the words of the song, the powerful sense that all of the audience—everyone—was there for the same reason, was sharing the same emotions…. _Yeah,_ he concluded dreamily, more than half asleep. _If she doesn't sing it again, I'll ask for it. I'd like to hear it again. I'd like to—_

Suddenly, with a devastating jerk that brought him to wakefulness, Zuko realized he _couldn't_ ask for the song tomorrow. He was never going back to the tea house, then or ever. He was sleeping in royal quarters in the Palace of the Earth King, Iroh was locked in the dungeons by Azula's orders, and he was never going to see the Three Sisters at performance night in the tea house again. He was Fire Prince Zuko now, not Lee the tea shop boy, he realized, and that world was closed to him.

At that moment, at the end of that long and grueling day, lying on the softness of a feather mattress instead of rough straw and covered with silk instead of cotton, all of Azula's sweet words could not relieve Zuko of a terrible sense of overwhelming, irrevocable loss.

He wrapped his arms around his body and rolled onto his side, burying his head under the coverlet; he began to rock himself gently, trying to soothe himself. _It's okay,_ he repeated desperately. _It's okay. It's okay…_ At some point, much later, he finally was able to sleep.

* * *

What happened the next day, Zuko would realize later, happened because he had forgotten one of the cardinal rules he had worked out years ago for dealing with Azula. It wasn't entirely his fault—he was out of practice dealing with her, he hadn't seen her or been around her in three years—but the rule was so fundamental that, looking back on it later, he could not understand how he had come to forget it. The second rule he had worked out, right up there after "Azula always lies," was, "Anything you say to Azula can and will be used against you."

Azula was in the chill and columned marble throne room when he came to her the next morning; she was seated upon the Earth Kingdom throne, looking supremely at her ease, and as he crossed the slippery marble-tiled floor, she smiled at him and directed him to take a place by her side. He had gotten very little sleep the night before, and what he had managed to get was bad; as he should have expected, Azula noticed. She had been speaking to one of her Dai Li as he entered, but shortly she dismissed the man, turned to him, and said, "You look awful, brother dear. Rough night?"

Zuko did remember enough to know that Azula's concern was almost always phony, but at the same time, she at least appeared to be _showing_ concern; and Zuko was feeling low enough that even her appearance of concern looked welcome. _Maybe…maybe she's changed,_ he thought hopefully. After all, she hadn't had to include him in her plans to take the city; she hadn't had to give him the opportunity to rejoin her and regain his honor. _Maybe she did that because…_because she cared? Was that possible?

Abruptly he became aware that she was staring him—he had taken too long to answer. "It's nothing," he mumbled. "Only…."

"Only?"

Zuko hesitated, then made a snap decision. "I was just…kind of thinking about the old teahouse."

One eyebrow went up in an expression that, so Zuko had been told, many others found charming. "The _old_ teahouse?"

"Oh…yeah." Quickly, he gave her a brief and carefully unrevealing description of where he and Iroh had been working before they had been brought to the First Ring. Azula listened patiently, resting her elbow on one of the arms of the throne and leaning her chin on her hand. Zuko watched her closely as he spoke, ready to change the subject if at any time she looked too interested, or if she started to mock him—he didn't want to deal with that, not today—but she said nothing, only listened with an expression of gentle concern. Later he would recall that her expression was what he had come to call her "concerned face", but that was later. Slightly emboldened, he finished, "They have this performance night every week, where people can come in and play….I was just wondering who would be performing there tonight."

_There,_ he thought, watching her. He hadn't given her too many details, and he thought it would be okay. He waited, warily, for her reaction.

Azula did not laugh or mock him; she simply reached out and patted him on the arm. "Well, don't you worry, brother dear," she told him firmly. "You don't need to think about them anymore. You're back where you belong again, Prince of the Fire Nation, and you're done with that world forever."

It was what he had been thinking last night, but somehow, hearing it from Azula—stated so confidently—made him feel better. "Thanks," he told her with real feeling.

"Don't mention it." She patted his arm again with a slight smile. "What are sisters for?"

* * *

He had largely forgotten about the conversation by the time she came to him later that afternoon; he had been out in one of the palace gardens, loitering under some trees and ostensibly looking at the rock-bordered fish pond. Actually he was trying to avoid Mai, though he wouldn't have mentioned this to anyone; it hadn't been long before he had heard that she was with Azula. _Of course she is, she and Ty Lee follow Azula everywhere, how could you have forgotten that?_ He hadn't seen her so far, but knew she'd be looking for him and had consequently determined to be as hard to find as possible.

Zuko was standing by the edge of the pool when Azula found him, moodily tossing stones into the water and watching the fish dart around in panic. _Swim, little fishes,_ he thought, aiming one right for the center of the largest school; the fish scattered in all directions as the rock splashed in, their silver sides winking in the sun. _Why should you have an easier life than anyone else? Swim…_ He wondered what that Water Tribe girl would say if she saw him doing this. _Probably nothing good. Who cares, anyway._ He was hefting another rock when he heard Azula's steps on the gravel behind him.

Long habit had not completely deserted him; Zuko dropped the rock and turned toward her immediately, taking a step or two back without even thinking about it. His eyes went to her face, but he could not read anything there.

"Brother dear," she greeted him, and smiled. "Good news: I've got a surprise for you."

_Uh-oh._ He tensed warily. Azula and that smile were not a good combination, he was pretty sure he remembered that, and Azula and surprises were even less so. "What kind of surprise?" he demanded.

"It's a good one—one I know you're going to like." That did nothing to reassure him. "Come with me," Azula commanded, beckoning him to follow her. "I'll show you."

"Did you capture the Avatar?" he asked, falling in behind her and to one side as they walked up the path to the palace.

"No, it's something different," she said coyly.

"Did—" He swallowed. "D-did you hear from Father?"

"No, not that either." They were passing through the shade of the overhanging roof and through the lacquered double doors that led to the palace interior; Azula turned and looked back over her shoulder, her golden eyes glimmering in the shadows within. "Relax, brother," she told him, smiling. "Don't you trust me?"

He didn't, and with good reason. Silently, he followed her down the shining, tiled hallway.

She led him through one corridor after another, until they reached the throne room; it was largely deserted, except for her ever-present Dai Li guards against the walls. Azula directed him to stand in his usual place by the side of the throne. "Wait here," she told him, and then went to murmur some instructions to one of the Dai Li. He tried to listen in on what she was saying, but her voice was too low; he couldn't understand anything. She returned to seat herself casually upon the throne, leaning back at her ease.

"They're going to get it," she told him with that small smile. "It'll just be a moment."

"What is it?" he asked again.

"Shhh—" Azula held up a hand. "They're coming."

Heavy footsteps were marching along the marble tiles of the outer corridor, armored rock boots that Zuko could tell were the tread of the Dai Li guards. All at once he was filled with a horrible certainty that he knew what the surprise was, that the Dai Li would open the doors and they would have Iroh—his mind froze in fright. He turned toward Azula, feeling sick to his stomach.

"_Where's Uncle?_"

Azula gave him a look. "It has nothing to do with Uncle," she chided him. "His fate is for Father to decide, not me. This is something different. Honestly, Zuko, _relax._ You'll like this, trust me."

_Zuko._ She hadn't once called him Zuzu. That could be a good sign or a bad sign. He was about to ask something else, when the footsteps reached the doors and Azula straightened, her golden eyes gleaming.

"Ah, here they are. Bring them in!" she called.

The door opened and stumbling into the throne room came….

_What?_

At first Zuko couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. It was so wrong for them to be there, that all he could think was, _What are they doing here? It's Lee who knows them, not me…_ Then realization crashed in on him and he was suddenly filled with a sick, cold horror. _She knew, she knew somehow, she always knows, how did I forget she always knows…_

It was the Three Sisters, the group from the teahouse that he had been thinking about last night. They were were in street clothing, not their performance costumes—another reason why it had taken him a moment to recognize them—but it was them, sure enough: tiny Kim, usually bright and giggly but now looking pale as snow and almost ill from fear; round, motherly Eilei, her hair in two braids instead of her usual puffs, carrying a book bag, and Shun Min, with a book bag as well. Shun Min had obviously been taken from classes; she was crying a little. Eilei was trying to be brave, but trembling; there was a bruise darkening on her cheek. All three of them were scuffed, rumpled and dirty. _They're scared to death,_ he realized, and turned to stare at Azula blankly.

Azula's smile had widened into an evil grin. "Like the surprise, brother?" she asked him. "You wondered who would be performing, so I thought I'd bring them to you." Then to the Dai Li, "Good, boys, bring them over here. Right in front of us."

The Dai Li—there were six of them, two for each girl—gripped the women and shoved them roughly toward the throne; Shun Min reeled and Kim tripped and went sprawling to the ground before she could catch herself. Clinging together, they turned their faces up to the throne and their eyes found him. Zuko saw at once, feeling cold, that they recognized him—_how could they not?_ he snarled at himself.

"Lee….?" That was Shun Min. He had never heard her voice shake like that before. She was staring at him as if she didn't quite know what she was seeing. "That's—that's Lee from the tea shop…" and then all three of them began to beseech him. _I didn't even know they knew my name,_ he thought inanely.

"Lee—what are you doing here? What's going on? Are—are we in trouble?"

"Why did the Dai Li bring us here? What—did we do something wrong? Why are you dressed like that?"

"Just tell us what's going on, Lee, please—tell them to send us back, I was taken right out of class, I need to—"

Zuko was cold all over. His skin was prickling and there seemed to be a leaden weight in the pit of his stomach. "Don't, Azula," he heard himself say through numb lips. "Don't do this. Azula, please don't do this—"

Azula's golden eyes glimmered with tiny sparks, and her lips curved as she glanced over at him. "I'm doing you a favor, brother. You should thank me," she murmured. Then she turned to the three singers, and said coldly, "You will address my brother as _Prince_ _Zuko of the Fire Nation_."

Zuko could see Eilei's lips tracing Azula's words. The three of them went silent, staring at him with wide eyes, freezing like rabbits when a tigerhawk passes over. Tiny little Kim—whose fierce voice raised in song had made him shake—was crying openly now, and Shun Min's face was gray; Eilei was standing, but she looked like she had been struck with an incredible blow. As they looked at him, he saw in their eyes the breaking of something he hadn't even known existed. _Damn you, Azula,_ he thought in sick despair.

"Do not be afraid," Azula told them in a voice that meant exactly the opposite. "You have been summoned here because my brother has told me of your singing, and that he enjoyed it."

_That's not true,_ Zuko wanted to plead, seeing their faces change as they looked at him. _I never told her anything, I never…_ Somehow, before the golden glimmer in his sister's eyes, he could not speak.

Azula was continuing. "I have brought you here to give a command performance for myself and my brother. Your instruments have been brought as well." She gestured, and more of the Dai Li came forward, holding their instruments; they had to press Shun Min's zither into her trembling hands. "Sing well, and you will be rewarded." Azula did not mention what would happen if they sang poorly, but her smile left no doubt; she was clearly reveling in their fear.

_She's evil,_ Zuko thought distantly, looking at her. _Agni, she's so evil…_

Her words did not appear to comfort the girls in the slightest; Kim was sobbing hysterically, clutching her shamisen to her so tightly she seemed to be crushing it, and Shun Min looked like she wanted to faint. Eilei licked her lips. "You—you want us to s-sing?" She looked stupidly at her terrified friends, then back up at Zuko; Zuko could not meet her eyes. "My—my lady, you don't—we're not—we're nothing more than a group of friends who get together and sing for _fun_ sometimes," she protested in a rush. "We don't—"

"Nevertheless," Azula said coolly. "You sang well enough to impress my brother—" Zuko couldn't help himself; he cringed when she said that "—and now you will sing for him again. I _command_ it." She glanced sideways at Zuko, her eyes glimmering, glimmering; Zuko desperately tried to keep his face expressionless.

Eilei stared at the two of them, looked again at the terrified, sobbing girls behind her, and shakily drew herself up. When she spoke her voice was unsteady, yet somehow firm. "My—my lady, I'm very sorry, but we—we cannot sing like this. I apologize, but we can't—"

"We sing for _fun!_" Kim broke in, gasping for breath. "We just s-sing because it's _fun_—let us go, Lady, please, just let us go!" Her tear-filled eyes found Zuko, and at the look in them, he would have given anything to be able to drop through the floor.

Azula took no notice. "You won't sing?" she asked, raising one brow. "Very well. If you won't sing—if you're refusing a direct royal command—then perhaps a spell in the dungeon will change your minds. Dai Li!" She clapped her hands.

"The _dungeon!?_" Eilei paled sharply. "My—my lady, please, we didn't intend—"

"I never hurt anyone—I'm just a _college student!_" Shun Min was sobbing. "I never did anything wrong—what will my parents say?"

Azula's smile was the cruelest expression Zuko had ever seen in his life. "If you want to change your mind and sing for my brother," she said, gesturing to him, "I am prepared to forgive this insolence."

Kim turned again toward him, transfixing him; he could not look away. "Please—just tell her to let us go, Lee, please!" she sobbed. "Please, Lee, just t-tell h-her to—"

Azula gave a nod, and one of the Dai Li came up behind her and struck her hard across the head; Kim gave a high-pitched wail and would have collapsed, except that Eilei jumped to catch her with a furious cry. "_Kim!"_ The sight of injury done to her friend—the littlest and youngest of the group—seemed to have jolted the older woman out of her fear. "_Why did you do that?"_ she cried.

"I said before: You will address my brother as _Prince Zuko_," Azula responded icily. "And it is not _your_ place to ask him for anything."

Eilei stared at Azula in open fear and hatred. She clasped the shaking Kim to her body, rocking the young woman. Her face was filled with frightened anger as she turned on Zuko herself; he flinched back from her expression as if it were a knife to his heart. Worse was what she said next.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" she shouted. "Why did you do this to us? Why couldn't you just leave us alone!"

"This is your _last chance,_" Azula warned, rising to her feet, her eyes dancing with malicious glee. "Sing for my brother now, and I will let you go—if, that is, he thinks you sing well enough," she added, her smile sharp enough to cut. "If you will not, then it's the dungeon for you. Decide," she told them.

"No."

Zuko hadn't realized he had spoken until he saw Azula turning toward him, looking as surprised as if one of the walls had come to life. His heart was pounding in his chest and his mouth was dry as a desert.

"No?" Azula asked him.

"No. I changed my mind," he said. "I don't want to hear them sing. Let them go."

"You _don't_ want to hear them sing?" Azula raised one brow. "But you certainly seemed to want to hear them earlier—"

"I changed my mind," he repeated only. "Take them away. Let them go," he corrected himself immediately. He wet his lips. "Let them go and let's—" Rapidly he groped for an alternative activity that Azula might find amusing. "Let's go see Mai," he suggested desperately. "I haven't seen her and Ty Lee in a long time. Let's go see her. Let them go," he repeated. "Azula, just let them go."

Azula looked at him. _How could I ever have thought that concern was real?_ he wondered, distantly amazed. "Are you _sure,_ brother dear?" she asked. "They're right here, after all—it would be easy—"

"_No,_" he insisted. "I don't—I don't want to hear any singing today. Let's go see Mai. Azula, come on. Let them go and we can see Mai."

He could see the smile flickering in the edges of her eyes. _What a cruel color gold is…_ "Wellllll…." she said with obvious hesitance. "If you're _sure,_ brother. Although," she repeated, that smile widening, "you certainly did seem to want to see them earlier—"

"Yeah, well I don't now. Let them go and let's go see Mai."

She paused for a moment longer, dragging it out. "All right," she said at last, shrugging. "If you're sure. Very well. Dai Li," she commanded. "Take these three to the gates of the palace and let them go. Set them free," she clarified with a glance at Zuko.

Kim's sobbing echoed as the three women were escorted from the hall. In the silence that followed, Azula turned toward him, her lips curled slightly. "Happy now, Zuzu?" she asked solicitously.

Zuko stared back at her. "Yes," was all he said.

That concerned look was back. Zuko thought dimly that it looked nauseatingly false. "As long as you're happy." She paused. "Do you see now how you don't need them?"

"They're just ordinary people," he said quietly.

Azula missed his meaning, perhaps deliberately. "Exactly. And we are extraordinary, Zuzu, you and I. We are firebenders, and more so, royalty. What are they but Earth Kingdom peasant trash? Do you see that now?"

"I do," he said. "Thank you, Azula."

"Anything for you, brother." She even looked as if she meant it, he realized in distant amazement.

"Are we going to see Mai?"

Azula looked him over. "Maybe later," she told him. "You look exhausted, brother dear. Why don't you go lie down for a bit?"

Back in his rooms, Zuko closed the door and slumped back against it. He was covered in clammy sweat. He closed his eyes, seeing again the warm interior of the tea house, brightly lit with candles, hearing the crowd murmur in anticipation, feeling that same anticipation himself as they waited for Kim and Eilei and Shun Min to take the stage; remembering how, as the three women came onstage sparkling with excitement and energy, the entire room fell eagerly silent, ready to see what they were going to do. The warm, inviting memory vanished before the image of them, terrified, cowering in that chilly great hall before the throne. Before _him,_ never mind that Azula had brought them there. _What are they but Earth Kingdom peasant trash?_

He opened his eyes. There was a vase standing on a table by the door, ornately patterned, probably priceless. Zuko picked it up, turning it over in his hands, then with all his strength he hurled it viciously across the room. He stood, breathing hard, listening to it shatter.

In his dresser among his clothing there was a leather pouch containing his and Iroh's earnings from their first day at the new tea house. Zuko took it out and opened it, letting the gold coins drift through his fingers; hesitated, then added all the coins he had on him and a few jewels lying on top of the dresser. It was ten times the proceeds of a single day at the old tea house, but it still didn't look like very much, didn't seem like enough somehow. But it was all he had.

A Dai Li guard was standing there when he opened the door; Azula had provided them. For the first time it occurred to him to wonder whether the guard was to keep intruders out or to keep him in. Zuko quickly pressed the bag into his hands. "Those women who were here earlier—the singers—"

The guard's face was impassive. "My lord?"

"Give them this. Tell them it's from me and—and tell them—" He swallowed. "Tell them I'm sorry."

The man looked down at him dispassionately. No flicker of emotion showed on his stony face, but he closed his fingers around the coin pouch. His bow to Zuko was deeper than it needed to be.

"As you command." He paused, and then bowed again. "My lord."

_Great. I just hope that means he'll actually **do** it,_ Zuko thought bitterly, retreating into his room. And that he'd wait at least a day or so before he told Azula._ Assuming that she didn't have the guards grab them again five minutes after they got out of the front gates, just for fun…._ He just hoped that if or when she did find out, she'd find the gift itself amusing and would torment him about it rather than going after them again….

He closed his eyes again, drawing a deep breath, standing still in the middle of his darkened quarters, shining with rich wood and ornaments. _I want to go home,_ he thought very clearly. _I want to talk to Iroh, I want to go home, I want to go **home….**_

But he was home. This was his home now. He was back, just like he'd wanted to be, here at Azula's side. And Uncle Iroh was a traitor.

There were no more vases to throw. Zuko went out into the garden and threw rocks at the fish instead.

_Finis._


End file.
